


Lazy Sunday Afternoon

by Deepdarkwaters



Series: Flame Keepers [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4670009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deepdarkwaters/pseuds/Deepdarkwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So," Eggsy says, slurred and sleepy as he turns onto his side and nuzzles his cheek against the front of Harry's trousers, "that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"</p><p>"Both, actually," Harry admits, and Eggsy's eyes crack open: green, bright, laughing.</p><p>"Fuck yeah."</p><p>Tooth-rotting domestic fluff. It's basically all-day sex with a break for sandwiches. Follows <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4629843">Street Sweepers, Night Watchmen, Flame Keepers</a> but you don't have to have read that for this. It's seriously just a dandelion puffball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Sunday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thekookster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekookster/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Lazy Sunday Afternoon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10664652) by [chatain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chatain/pseuds/chatain)



**12:04 pm**

Harry hears the sounds of Eggsy moving upstairs, clatters and sleepy stumbling around the unfamiliar bedroom, long before he appears in the living room doorway wearing nothing but underpants and a t-shirt, hair sticking up in every direction and fingertips digging hard into his eyes. "Morning," Eggsy says, stretching the word clumsily around a yawn. "Fuckin walked right into your wardrobe door, dead monkey nearly fell on my head."

"Afternoon," Harry corrects. "Take your fingers out of your eyes and you'll be able to see where you're going."

That gets him a squinted glare, then a reluctant grin. "Shoulda woke me. You been up long?"

"Hours."

"Sitting there pining." The grin broadens, dimpling Eggsy's cheek. "Waiting for me. Doodling hearts with my initials in."

Harry tilts his clipboard so Eggsy can see the familiar colours and typeface. "Writing up my mission report."

"Fuck sake. I'm going back to bed."

 

**12:58 pm**

Harry's view: His thigh as a pillow for Eggsy's head. Dark blond hair twisted and tufted, as badly behaved as Harry's own first thing in the morning although less prone to curl. Eggsy's face, pale and peaceful, dimpled beside the lips from his smile. Golden brown stubble scattering his cheeks and chin. Flecks of scabs across one cheekbone, presumably from flying shrapnel on his Thailand mission – barely possible to believe that was only two days ago. Harry's fingertips falter on their path through Eggsy's messy hair, distracted by memories, until Eggsy's smile widens and he murmurs, "Oi. Don't stop til I say so."

"Bossy." But he does as he's bid, gently scratching along the path of Eggsy's parting, the nape of his neck, long dragging lines from his temples to his crown, and doesn't stop until Eggsy drifts back off to sleep.

 

**1:37 pm**

"So," Eggsy says, slurred and sleepy as he turns onto his side and nuzzles his cheek against the front of Harry's trousers, "that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"

"Both, actually," Harry admits, and Eggsy's eyes crack open: green, bright, laughing.

"Fuck yeah."

 

**2:02 pm**

Harry takes his showers hot, almost too hot to bear, and the water pounding down on them seems to be as much to blame for Eggsy's squirming and gasping for breath as Harry's hand is: soaped and sliding across Eggsy's skin, fingers circling and kneading at tightened muscles until Eggsy's nothing but an armful of shuddering boneless delight. His shoulders have turned as pink as sunburn, and his neck, usually perfect and pale, is a mess of bruises and bite marks.

"You look as if you've been mauled," Harry murmurs, fitting his mouth to the worst of the bruises and sucking.

Even as lightly as he does it, Eggsy's legs seem to go weak and he slumps back against Harry's chest. "Pretty accurate description, yeah. South Kensington werewolf attacks up two hundred percent since Friday." Then he grins, almost laughs, twisting back to look up at Harry and just getting a faceful of water from the shower head. "That's what I'm gonna say—" Dripping, half-blind, raising one hand to deflect the spray "—if I ever want you to stop—" Winding one arm around Harry's neck and crowding him back against the tiled corner, kissing him hard with lots of tongue and the hint of teeth "—I'm gonna say silver bullet. But til I say it, you don't fucking stop."

 

**3:27 pm**

"I'm going to run out of clean linen if you don't go home," Harry says, trying to curve his body around various damp patches. "This is the third ruined set in two days."

"Fuck off, Harry, that's the bargain of a lifetime." Eggsy's lying on his front, contorting trying to see the new teeth marks and the mottled beginnings of bruises scattered across his hip and arse cheek. "You're a bit of a pervert, ain't you?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Harry says mildly as he circles his grip around Eggsy's wrist and starts to clean the semen off his fingers with his tongue.

"Harry... Harry, the monkey's watching."

"He's seen worse."

"God you're weird." He swings a leg over Harry's waist, leans down to kiss him again and ends up just lying there with his face tucked into Harry's neck. "Am I heavy?"

"Enjoyably so."

"Really fuckin weird," he says fondly.

 

**4:01 pm**

It's far too late to start on Sunday lunch the way he planned to – not that he's going to complain, given the circumstances – so they make sandwiches instead, weaving around each other in the little kitchen and fighting with their knives in the butter dish. Brie and bacon and sliced grapes for Harry ( _why's my boyfriend such a fucking weirdo?_ Eggsy asks Mr Pickle), ham and too much mustard for Eggsy, spinach on the side to eat leaf by leaf like crisps because he hates the way it crunches against the softness of bread ( _mine's a little challenging as well_ Harry comments to his dead dog, and Eggsy's face turns radiant).

"Is this weird?" Eggsy asks after a while. He's sitting sideways on the sofa, legs slung over Harry's lap, and Harry's using his knees as a table for his sandwich plate. "I mean yeah we established you're weird as fuck, but you know. Me and you."

It's a good question, one that probably shouldn't be considered in too much depth while they're still this high on novelty and afterglow. "Do you think it feels weird?"

"That thing you did with your tongue felt pretty weird, I gotta say." He mops up a spilled drop of mustard with his fingertip and sucks it into his mouth, smirking, which should not be having the effect on Harry that it is. Mustard, honestly.

 

**6:14 pm**

Harry recaps his pen and stretches out his hand, knuckles crackling like bubblewrap. "Finished."

"Yeah but it weren't even a real mission, it was an attack, so we shouldn't have to write reports," Eggsy says stubbornly from his place in front of the fire, where's he's stretched out on his front surrounded by photo albums he found in a cabinet when he got bored and started exploring. "Holy fuck, Merlin looks like Professor Snape! What's all that hair about?"

"That's nothing. If you dig far enough back in the archives you might be able to find his short and disturbingly successful Nick Rhodes phase."

"Who's Nick Rhodes?" he asks, looking baffled, and Harry tries not to mentally calculate the number of years between Rio and Eggsy's birth.

"Never mind."

"Who's _this_?" Eggsy asks in an entirely different tone of voice as he turns another few pages, and Harry glances down to see a wide smile, gleaming brown eyes, RAF uniform, an arm slung across the shoulders of his much younger self. "Boyfriend?"

"Gerry," he says, not elaborating because he's curious to see Eggsy's reaction. The lack of one is strangely disappointing, so he adds, "Jealous?" but Eggsy only grins up at him from his spot on the floor.

"Nah. Ain't Gerry's jizz you been gargling all last night, is it?"

"You're a disgusting infant. Go and make me a cup of tea to apologise." Harry times his words carefully a few minutes later, and just as Eggsy's taking a sip he casually asks, "There's not enough to actually gargle, surely?" and Eggsy splutters tea right up his nose.

 

**7:57 pm**

"I have to go home," Eggsy keeps saying, but every time he does he leans back in for another kiss which is decidedly _not_ the way to go about leaving.

"Don't let me stop you," Harry mumbles into his mouth, indistinct around the insistent press of Eggsy's tongue.

"Seriously though, I should go." He's kneeling in front of Harry's place on the sofa, craning up to reach his mouth, fingers cramped and twisting in the beige wool of Harry's cardigan. "To be continued, yeah?"

"Mmhm," is all Harry can manage, lost in Eggsy's mouth.

 

**9:03 pm**

"Harry." Eggsy's voice has rocketed to the breathy whining plea that Harry's decided he's going to wring out of him as often as possible for as long as he's allowed. "Harry, I have to go home, fuck, Jesus, Harry, yeah, don't stop, don't..."

 

**9:48 pm**

"Hope you appreciate this," Eggsy says between wet sucking kisses to Harry's cock, two slick fingers stroking inside him. "I'm meant to be going home."

 

**10:31 pm**

"Hurry up so I can go home, yeah?" Eggsy says, face down in the pillows, one hand reaching back to grab blindly at Harry's leg as if to urge him even deeper, which isn't actually possible. Instead Harry slows almost to a complete stop, tiny circling motions with his hips and the gentle curl of fingers sweeping up and down Eggsy's cock so he swears, hushed and desperate, muffled against the linen. "Fuck, oh fuck, what sort of fucking tantric bullshit is this, give it me—"

 

**10:54**

"Harry?"

He's almost asleep, curled around Eggsy with his lips pressed against the bruises on the side of his neck like a kiss. "Hm?"

"Would it scare you off if I said something fucking mushy as fuck?"

"Possibly. Doubtful."

"Just, feels like I'm at home already, you know?"

And the kiss turns to a smile, and Eggsy's fingers slide over Harry's and hold him there as he falls asleep.


End file.
